The entire open-air stadium vibrated from the applause of the most electric audience I’ve ever stood among. I looked toward my friend and saw that he felt it too: pure energy transferred from one individual to another, spreading through a sold-out venue of 20,000 people. 

The call for an encore was directed at Mt. Joy, who had just concluded their performance at Truliant Amphitheater in Charlotte, N.C. I never understood what it meant to “feel it to your bones” until I heard Mt. Joy’s performance of “Silver Lining,” the final song of their set on the evening of April 17. 

“They’re coming back,” I just barely heard a mother yell to her son next to us. 

“But they just left,” he said back.

“They’ll be back.” She responded resolutely. Can’t you tell? Don’t you feel it?

My ears continued to ring until the band reemerged from the wings and took up their respective positions on stage. The crowd roared as the opening cues to “Bathroom Light” rang out, followed by their 2016 hit, “Astrovan.”

There is no other way to describe the performance than that I found myself in a state of transfixion that lasted far beyond the show’s conclusion. The lights and graphics behind Mt. Joy moved in tandem with each expertly played note, transporting the audience through every song. 

The entire concert experience, facilitated by band manager Jacob Sharp, unfolded flawlessly. I arrived at Truliant at 8:00 p.m., where I retrieved my ticket and photo pass from the “will call” and was escorted through security with my camera. I was ushered through a displaced barricade into the alley between the pit seating and the stage minutes before the concert started. 

By the time the lights dimmed and five figures took to the stage, I was already spellbound. In this space between Mt. Joy and their audience, I could feel the true pull of the bandmates. Only the stoic security man next to me could manage the impossible feat of keeping my body tethered to the ground. Despite my best attempts to remain professional, had they looked down, the band would have seen an idiotically grinning figure staring back at them. When they looked beyond me, I’m positive that they saw thousands.

The set was split into two halves.

“We open for ourselves, then take a break, then come back,” lead singer Matt Quinn announced halfway through the set. “So don’t be alarmed when we leave the stage!” The two-hour performance mixed the band’s best hits and newer releases, with little to no commentary between songs. 

Quin took a minute to set up “Lucy,” a tribute to a friend diagnosed with brain tumors, by expressing his sympathies towards those in the audience suffering from similar sicknesses. This was a perfectly timed prelude and only served to make the audience lean closer. 

The five indie rock performers knew how to do just that: perform. More so, they knew how to captivate. Not a single body stood still; it was impossible to do so. The energy within the amphitheater was mystical as it circulated among each attendee. It was a mesmerizing display of musical talent that I haven’t experienced since I first heard live music as a little girl.